


Scattered Fragments

by SnowyWolff



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Drabble Collection, F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, Multiple Pairings, Other, Sexual Content, multiple prompts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2019-03-21
Packaged: 2019-06-28 06:18:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 67
Words: 15,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15701559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowyWolff/pseuds/SnowyWolff
Summary: Drabble collection, mostly from the HWD drabble events.Multiple characters and pairings. Ratings at the beginning of chapters.





	1. Garden (South Italy)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 21 July 2018  
> Character: South Italy (implied spamano)  
> Prompt: Garden  
> Rating: Gen  
> Word count: 101

Chances are that he is in his garden again.

It’s Romano’s domain, his kingdom, his safe haven. He can stay there for hours—days even if he can take that much time off from work.

It’s not large and every year he switches flowers and herbs and bushes to what he feels in the mood for that time. This year it’s marigolds for Belgium’s smile, tulips for the Netherlands’ hair and lavender for Luxembourg’s eyes.

He is still thinking over what to plant for Spain, even if he knows it won’t change.

Red carnations bleed his garden red every single year.


	2. City Lights (Netherlands)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 21 July 2018  
> Character: The Netherlands  
> Rating: Gen  
> Word count: 104

It’s one of those rare times the Netherlands takes the train.

It’s late and cold and wet and typical Dutch winter weather and all he wants is to be back at his home near the Veluwe, start a fire in the century-old fireplace and smoke.

He tries to look outside, but his own reflection stares back at him until they reach another city that dots streetlights like stars. He blinks and they pass into another bout of darkness.

He pulls his scarf a little tighter and leans against the window, closing his eyes.

Hopefully, this time, he wakes up before he misses his stop.


	3. Cute Bird (Pruliech)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 21 July 2018  
> Pairing: Prussia/Liechtenstein  
> Rating: Gen  
> Word count: 111

It's a well-known secret that Prussia loves small things. Another well-known fact is that he loves birds. Small birds, therefore, might be his favourite thing most of all.

But lately he's been noticing another small thing so unbearably cute that he doesn't quite know what to do. Stupid, because since when does the great nation of Prussia not know what to do?

Liechtenstein enters the large, elaborate room they have their meeting in this time. Prussia watches her until she catches his eye. She pauses, then cocks her head. Like a little sparrow, he muses.

Switzerland places his revolver on the table and Prussia pretends to look at the ceiling instead.


	4. Not Enough (Gremano)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 4 August 2018  
> Pairing: Greece/Romano  
> Prompt: Not Enough  
> Rating: Gen  
> Word count: 100

Stolen glances. Fleeting touches. Chaste kisses when Spain and the Ottoman Empire aren’t looking.

It’s never enough.

They gravitate toward each other, their heritages a burden they both carry like Atlas does the sky. They gravitate but never collide, too tired, too afraid.

It isn’t until Greece gains his independence and Romano struggles to accept his that they find the courage to indulge.

“Syracuse is still beautiful,” Greece says as they walk through the streets.

Romano pauses as their arms brush, then all at once pulls Greece in an alley and into a searing kiss.

“So are you,” he breathes.


	5. Treasure (Liechtenstein)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 4 August 2018  
> Character: Liechtenstein (implied Pruliech)  
> Prompt: Treasure  
> Rating: Gen  
> Word count: 115

Everyone has their treasures. Austria has his prized piano of a brand Lili can’t bother to remember. Hungary has her dresses from over the years, either patched or remade. Switzerland has been in love with his old Schmidt-Rubin rifle for over a century now.

Lili’s treasure isn’t anything impressive. No one would look at it and call it something as grandiose as a treasure either, but it’s special to her.

And even if it reminds her of a time where she was just another state in the German Confederation, the little memento at least made her feel special. Still does.

The handkerchief sits on her bedside table, the eagle embroidered in the corner facing up.


	6. Water (Netherlands)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 4 August 2018  
> Character: The Netherlands  
> Prompt: Water  
> Rating: T  
> Word count: 106  
> Note: Set during the Watersnoodramp of 1953. Mentions of death.

Always the Goddamn water. He could never escape it. _His people_ could never escape it.

He helps with the rescues. He hauls people from houses and roofs and God knows whatever other high ground the lucky survivors managed to find. He calls them lucky, but they aren’t. Not really. They may not be dead, but their houses are fodder to the never relenting ocean. Their livelihood, family, friends, animals, possessions. All gone.

The Netherlands feels ill and he isn’t sure whether it’s from the cold, his broken land, or the corpses floating all around him as he steers his boat around what was once a village.


	7. Patience (Prucanmano)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 12 August 2018  
> Pairing: Prussia/Canada/Romano  
> Prompt: Patience  
> Rating: M  
> Word count: 576

His patience is running thin.

It is a rare occurrence. Matthew has loads of patience after all. A whole reserve, comparable to the size of his country’s maple syrup reserve, if you will.

But it has been run thin today because of the two _idiots_ currently yelling in his kitchen over an argument that Matthew had tuned out of an hour ago.

He stands in the doorway, unamused and frankly done. So, he unfolds his arms and pushes into the room.

“Are you two quite done yet?” he asks and his voice is so sharp that Lovino and Gilbert immediately stop talking to look at him.

The argument momentarily forgotten they share a look because Matthew _never_ uses such a voice.

“Uh,” Gilbert starts.

“Are you okay?” Lovino ventures.

Matthew narrows his eyes and then swiftly turns on his heels. He heads for the bedroom and he hears them scramble after him. Knowing that Gilbert vaults over the couch as Lovino squeezes past the potted plant, he isn't at all surprised when they reach him at the same time, both grabbing an arm to will him to a stop

“Matthew,” Lovino says, his voice soft and tantalizing. His thumb runs up the skin of his wrist. “What’s wrong?”

Gilbert’s arm winds itself around his waist and for a moment Matthew feels like relenting, but then he catches the foul looks his boyfriends send each other past his shoulders and he decided to hell with it.

He rips himself from them, much to their confusion, and enters the bedroom. He throws his flannel jacket on the chair.

“Mattie, this is freaking me out, man,” Gilbert says as he and Lovino watch him warily from the doorway.

“Good.” Matthew all but rips his t-shirt over his head and on the floor. He turns to the two men and does something he never does. He orders, “Undress and get on the bed.”

Lovino and Gilbert share a look and Matthew is a little too angry himself to figure out what it means. But then Lovino starts unbuttoning his dress shirt and Gilbert’s shirt joins his on the floor, his pants soon following, so he's glad to see the arguing stage is over.

Matthew watches, then stalks up to them when Gilbert’s fingers slip under the waistband of his boxers and grabs his wrist.

“Not yet,” he says lowly and kisses him, hard and forceful. He runs his tongue over Gilbert’s lip, but when he opens his mouth, he breaks the kiss and licks his own lips. He pushes him toward the bed and focuses on Lovino, who’s watching with narrowed eyes, shirt undone but still on.

Matthew pulls him a kiss then, nibbling at his neck as he pushes it off his shoulders. He tugs at the bottom of the shirt he wears underneath and pulls that off too, momentarily breaking contact, but immediately kissing him again as he helps Lovino undo his belt.

He keeps the kisses to what he likes and when Lovino runs his tongue over his lips, he breaks it, giving him a sharp pinch in his thigh. He then sends Lovino over to the bed as well, hand playing with the buckle of his own belt as he watches his boyfriends with thinly veiled lust.

“Tonight,” he says and he focuses a sharp blue gaze on the two people he loves the most in the world. “Tonight is going to be all mine.”


	8. Clockwork (Gerita)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 September 2018  
> Pairing: Germany/Italy  
> Prompt: Clockwork  
> Rating: M  
> Word count: 108

They fit together like clockwork. And maybe not in the most conventional sense of the words because Veneziano is messy, bubbly and excitable where Germany is clean, down-to-earth and pragmatic.

But when Germany lifts his hips like that and muffles a groan like this, Veneziano can't help but make the analogy. 

He runs a hand across Germany’s thigh, digs his nails into his hips, breathes his name into his neck, and forgets about cuckoo clocks because Germany has his hands in his hair and is begging him to go faster, deeper, _more._

And Veneziano obliges, rolls his hips, and loses himself in the hot, hazy bliss.


	9. Luck (of the Draw) (South Italy)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 September 2018  
> Character: Romano  
> Prompt: Luck  
> Rating: Gen  
> Word count: 106

Luck of the draw, they say, is something you can’t influence. Unless you’re a very good cheater at card games.

But Lovino is neither lucky nor a cheater. Not that he’d be very good at card games anyway, it being a rather difficult thing to play when blind. Not impossible, but definitely easier for others to cheat him instead.

No, Lovino is stuck with the cards dealt, stuck with a cane and a pair of sunglasses, stuck in a perpetual darkness that is starting to bore him just a little. And he can’t change that.

He can’t change that, but God, did he wish he could.


	10. Morning (Denmark)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 September 2018  
> Character: Denmark  
> Prompt: Morning  
> Rating: Gen  
> Word count: 225  
> Note: Mentions of alcohol.

Denmark likes to drink. A lot. A lot a lot. One time he drank so much together with Finland that Sweden had to haul both of them over his shoulders, one on each, and toss them haphazardly in a bed because Denmark had been sure his legs had run off into the night without him.

Therefore it’s surprising how much he loves the morning. Even if he’s hungover and in pain and in dire need of coffee, he still takes the time to open up the curtains, soak in the beautiful(ly painful) sun, and listen to the world starting up at six am.

He once chirped at breakfast how happy he is it’s morning and “don’t you all agree?”

Iceland thinks it’s freaky, Finland tells him to ask again in the afternoon when he’s less hungover, Sweden says something but Denmark’s mind is still a little too muddled to understand, and Norway just gives him this look that Denmark would love to mean _yes, big brother, I totally get what you mean, you_ _’re so cool_ , but really probably means, _why do you always ask weird questions at seven am, what have I done to deserve that?_

But even if his brothers don’t think mornings are all that great, Denmark is glad to be happy for them in extension.


	11. Take a Chance on Me (Sufin)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 September 2018  
> Pairing: Sweden/Finland  
> Prompt: Chance  
> Rating: Gen  
> Word count: 163  
> Note: This is the result of my terrible word association ability

_Honey, I_ _’m still free  
Take a chance on me._

And Tino is almost tempted. _Almost_.

Because it isn’t every day you find a six-foot-seven giant of a man standing on a rickety table in a bar that _really_ shouldn’t be playing ABBA at any point during the night, making eye-contact with you as he bellows the words with a barely understandable accent.

Tino doesn’t know why he lets Mikkel convince him to walk to the jukebox and pick a follow-up song, and he definitely doesn’t know why he jumps on the table out of his own volition, but he stops caring as he sings along more terrible lyrics, keeping his eyes on the man—Berwald, he learns later—and ignoring the whistles of the other patrons.

 _Gimme, gimme, gimme a man after midnight_  
_Take me through the darkness_  
_To the break of the day_


	12. Lesson (Chibitalia)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 September 2018  
> Characters: Chibitalia and Austria  
> Prompt: Lesson  
> Rating: Gen  
> Word count: 165

There is a lesson in everything. That’s what Austria says anyway.

Veneziano doesn’t often understand the lessons, even if Austria huffs and puffs about the importance of them.

Austria teaches differently from his _Nonno_. Austria takes a long time explaining the things he wants Veneziano to know, things Veneziano already knows but no one every believes him because he’s _small_ so what does _he_ know? It doesn’t matter that Venezia has existed since the fifth century and is technically _older_ than Austria because Veneziano still only reaches his waist and thus is not allowed to know more.

But he takes forever, so Veneziano becomes bored and starts to look out of the window and that just results in _another_ lecture and it’s almost an endless circle if it wasn’t for Hungary saving him.

Austria’s lessons are unnecessary and somewhat (very) useless, but Veneziano learns to pretend to listen, and maybe that’s the most important lesson he’s learnt.


	13. Nightfall (Prumano)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 22 September 2018  
> Pairing: Prussia/Romano  
> Prompt: Nightfall  
> Rating: Gen  
> Word count: 105

Prussia waits until the night has fallen before he peeks his head out into the hallway, checking whether the coast is clear. He toes his way to the stairway, climbs three flights and finds himself at the far end of the seventh floor.

The keycard Romano had pressed into his hand right after the meeting unlocks the door with a series of beeps and Prussia ducks inside the dark room without preamble.

Romano sighs as Prussia slips underneath the covers, settling against his back.

“Cold,” Romano murmurs as Prussia slips a hand underneath his shirt.

Prussia presses a kiss against his neck and replies, “Warm.”


	14. Candlelight (Belarus)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 22 September 2018  
> Character: Belarus  
> Prompt: Candlelight  
> Rating: Gen  
> Word count: 103

The flicker catches her attention, draws her in. A gentle warmth that does little to dispel the everlasting winter, but carries light—a promise.

Belarus watches the little flame dance, bright orange and distracting. Promises mean little in their lives, human intervention more often that not derailing every promise a nation has ever made to another. They mean little, but they mean a lot.

Candles, too, mean little, yet also a lot.

She watches it flicker, follows a drop of wax as it slides down the side, stains the brass, and licks her fingers, extinguishing the flame.

At least she could control that.


	15. Hidden (Nyo!Fruk)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 22 September 2018  
> Pairing: Nyo!France/Nyo!England  
> Prompt: Hidden  
> Rating: Gen  
> Word count: 235

It shouldn’t have surprised Gabrielle as much as it had, but it _had_.

She probably shouldn’t have peeked either, knowing full well how much she disliked people going through her own notebooks, yet when an old sketchbook dropped from its precarious perch in the hall closet from which she had been retrieving blankets, Gabrielle had been too curious not to.

Small sketches, rough and unsteady at first before smoothing out into cleaner lines, decorated page after page, with the latest entry a sketch of the view from their bedroom window. And Alice had kept them hidden from her.

She retraced her steps to the living room, still flipping between pages as if in a daze. Alice glanced up from her book and froze, eyes darting between the sketchbook and Gabrielle.

“These are gorgeous, Alice,” Gabrielle said softly, smiling gently at her girlfriend, and perched on the armrest of her chair. She handed it back to Alice unprompted, only reaching up to run a hand through Alice’s hair. “I apologize for looking.”

Alice ran her fingers across the cover, eyes conveying not hurt, but a thoughtfulness. “They’re scribbles, for when I’m bored.”

“Very nice scribbles.”

That earned Gabrielle a gentle-yet-not-so-gentle shove off the chair.

“I thought you were getting blankets,” Alice said, dropping the sketchbook on the table before returning to her novel.

Gabrielle smiled and pressed a kiss to Alice’s cheek.


	16. Rain (Prumano)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 24 September 2018  
> Pairing: Prussia/South Italy (+Germany and North Italy)  
> Prompt: Rain  
> Rating: Gen  
> Word count: 350  
> Note: Lovi and Gil are late twenties and have to be good parental figures to their little brothers

They had gotten to know each other through their little brothers—and according to their little brothers many, many years later it had been sexual tension at first sight. Lovino refused to admit he held anything but disdain for the elder Beilschmidt, while Gilbert had instantly jumped on the “let’s see how red we can make Lovino because he’s so _cute,_ caring for his little brother like he does” bandwagon.

But they dealt with each other because their eight-year-old brothers were _best_ friends and they, as the good caretakers that they were, often met up at various locations to indulge them.

One such an instance found them soaked to the bone, huddled on the doormat in the Beilschmidt residence as Gilbert had scuttled down to the bathroom to get towels.

Lovino ignored his own discomfort in favour of fussing over Feliciano, and then Ludwig because the poor kid was shivering violently. Gilbert returned just as Lovino helped Ludwig out of his shoes, Feliciano bouncing excitedly on his bare feet, chattering about everything. Snatching the towel from Gilbert’s hands, Lovino set to drying Ludwig’s hair. Gilbert snorted and beckoned for Feliciano.

“You suck,” Lovino grumbled as Gilbert threw a towel over his head, the boys having been ushered into the bathroom for a quick warm bath.

“Would hot chocolate make it better?” Gilbert offered, stepping behind Lovino to dry his hair.

Feliciano twisted in the tub, excitedly babbling that _he_ would love hot chocolate and so would Ludwig, right, yes? And Ludwig nodded because Feliciano had a really good point. Lovino gave them both a look, seated on the trashcan as Gilbert towels his hair.

But his shoulders slumped, because hot chocolate really did sound nice, and he reached behind him, caught the collar of Gilbert’s shirt and pulled him closer. Waiting until the boys were distracted by their toys in the tub, he turned his head slightly, brushed his lips against the stubble of Gilbert’s jaw and whispered, “Only if I get a back rub tonight as well.”

Gilbert laughed and pressed a kiss to Lovino’s cheek. “Promise.”


	17. Proposal (Prucan)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 26 September 2018  
> Pairing: Prussia/Canada  
> Prompt: Proposal  
> Rating: Gen  
> Word count: 643  
> Note: For Gizmo <33

Matthew is panicking, which is silly because it isn’t that big of a deal. It _isn_ _’t_ , but oh, God, it’s such a big deal.

Except… except they’ve been living together ever since Matthew retrieved him from behind that God-awful wall and they had been a couple since the eighties when they had danced to _There Is a Light that Never Goes Out_ and Gilbert had said, “thank you,” and Matthew had kissed him. And now, after forty-or-so years, Matthew wants to ask Gilbert to marry him.

Oh, a ring shouldn’t weigh as much as this little titanium band seems to weigh, but it’s heavy and Matthew seriously thinks it’s what’s keeping him from entering the living room.

He feels so utterly silly, and childish, so very young in comparison to Gilbert. Their relationship is so young also and it’s not as if nations really need to get married anyway, not unless something in their politics forces their lands to combine in some form. But Matthew, nor Canada, has any interest in combining with former Prussia, now honorary East Germany, mainly because you couldn’t combine with half a nation and he had no interest in marrying Germany as well (and he doubted Italy would appreciate it either). So really it was just a ceremony to claim Gilbert, the man, as his husband and nothing big at all.

Yet, standing in the cold, dark hallway isn’t going to achieve anything at all. Plus, Gilbert should be getting suspicious of Matthew’s absence because he had only said he’d go to the toilet.

Breathing deeply, Matthew manages the huge steps into the light of the living room. Gilbert is still sprawled on the carpet, controller in hand, tongue peeking out, eyes glued to the TV. Matthew sinks to the floor next to him and Gilbert glances at him, pauses, allows his character to die in favour of giving Matthew his attention. Gilbert knows something is going on; he _always_ does.

Matthew fiddles nervously, twisting his fingers into the material of his sweater until Gilbert reaches over and takes them in his own.

“Mattie?” he asks, rubbing soothing circles in the skin by his thumb. “Remember our talk about blurting out what’s on our minds?”

Somehow, that dissipates some of his nervousness. Matthew snorts. “That was applicable to you, Gil, and it involved not doing that in front of the Prime Minister.”

“Eh.” Gilbert shrugs, grinning crookedly. “And you should do it more often, so come on. Spill.”

Matthew opens his mouth, shyly glancing at his hands still being held by Gilbert. His stomach is in knots and he wonders if there’s an easier way to do this. He pauses then, because there _is_ an easier way to do this, when words are failing him yet again. He carefully extracts a hand from Gilbert, smiling quickly before reaching for his trouser pocket.

“Close your eyes,” he manages to whisper, and by now Gilbert must know what Matthew is up to because he has Gilbert’s left hand in his and Gilbert isn’t exactly stupid, but he still goes along with Matthew’s request, long white lashes fluttering against his cheeks.

He fumbles just a little with the ring, but pushing it onto Gilbert’s ring finger, squeezing his hand, Matthew feels just enough confidence to ask, “Will you marry me?”

Gilbert blinks open his eyes, glances down at the simple titanium band and just sits very still for a moment. Then he presses a hand against his mouth and chuckles, a little breathlessly. “Don't you normally ask first and then put the ring on?”

Matthew blushes, but, digging through whatever romance he has ever learnt from Francis, he feels confident enough to say, “I figured you wouldn't be able to resist,” then feels a little light-headed.

Laughing, Gilbert’s cups Matthew’s cheek and kisses him. “I guess I can't.”


	18. Sunset (Spain)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 13 October 2018  
> Character: Spain  
> Prompt: Sunset  
> Rating: T  
> Word count: 120  
> Note: blood, sorta

The colours of the setting sun bleeds into each other, leaving a gradient of soft colours until it hits the horizon. Red, deep and saturated, cuts into soft pink and dips behind the horizon.

Spain doesn't like it.

The sun is not supposed to set, not on him, not on his lands, not on his people. He fights and kills and bleeds and red and red and red—

The sun does not set.

Midday in New Spain. No red, not yet.

And when the Americas bleed too, he goes to the East Indies, and perhaps he stops shortly in India, in one of Portugal’s cities, just to piss off England, and then he’s back in Spain.

The sun never sets.


	19. Ticklish (Dennor)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 22 October 2018  
> Pairing: Denmark/Norway  
> Prompt: “Oh, Are you ticklish?”  
> Rating: Gen  
> Word count: 306  
> Note: For the one Tumblr anon who saved me from boredom <3

“No,” Norway warned, holding up a foot in a silent threat. His book had slipped to the floor, blanket halfway there, and he used the armrest as leverage behind him for an eventual quick escape if needed.

Denmark blinked innocently, knee on the other armrest, a whole couch cushion filled with dangerous kicking obstacles between him and Norway. He eyed the battlefield warily, licking his lips as he shifted, trying to find the rug so his socked feet wouldn’t slip.

“What?” he asked, and carefully placed placed a hand next to Norway’s other foot. “I just want to cuddle?”

Norway narrowed his eyes, but lowered his socked weapon, giving Denmark the opportunity to pounce and crawl up and over him, settling partially on top, trapping Norway’s legs safely away from his privates. There was a pause where Norway watched him warily, but then he slowly unwound, shuffling a little as he made himself comfortable again.

“So, _are_ you ticklish, Norway?” Denmark repeated thoughtfully.

Norway was quick to take defencive position, but Denmark was quicker, settling his full weight on him as he dug his fingers in his side, gaining breathless snorts and laughs as Norway clawed at him. Wiggling was not working in his favour at all, and Denmark had him quite pinned, so Norway focused on getting his leg free again, managing to raise it up and before slamming it down on Denmark’s back, throwing the other off enough to roll them both off the couch.

He landed heavily on top of Denmark, breathing heavily against his neck as Denmark laughed, running his fingers through Norway’s hair soothingly. Denmark pressed a kiss against his forehead, so Norway retaliated by biting his collarbone.

“Can we still cuddle though?” Denmark asked.

Norway sighed, pressing a small, barely noticeable kiss to where he had bitten before. “Yeah, sure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm open for drabble requests until November 9th so come to my [request page](http://www.writingsofasnowywolff.tumblr.com/request) and send me an ask maybe?


	20. Greenery (Spamano)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 27 October 2018  
> Pairing: Spain/South Italy  
> Prompt: Greenery  
> Rating: M  
> Word count: 168

Lovino really couldn’t care less about the dirt on his clothes, or the rocks and branches digging into his back, or the leaves he would have to comb from his hair later. None of that mattered when Antonio hovered over him, hand on the curve of his ass, mouthing red marks into his neck.

He moaned, arching his back as Antonio’s other hand reached in between them and touched him. Digging his nails in Antonio’s shoulders, he wanted to say something biting to Antonio’s breathless chuckle, but he quickly forgot about it again as Antonio rolled his hips.

Antonio shifted slightly to press his lips to Lovino’s, green eyes travelling to his hair. He had to release Lovino—which did _not_ make him whine; he refused!—so he could balance on his forearm as he ran his fingers through thick auburn curls.

“So pretty,” Antonio sighed.

“Fucking—” Lovino’s foul retort was cut short by another well-aimed thrust, eyes rolling back as Antonio finally picked up the pace.


	21. Cloth (Prumano)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 27 October 2018  
> Pairing: Prussia/South Italy  
> Prompt: Cloth  
> Rating: M  
> Word count: 139  
> Note: Bondage eyyy

They probably shouldn’t have used the fabrics Romano had meant to turn into colourful summer dresses for Belgium and Veneziano, but he was far beyond the point of caring now.

Beside, they served a purpose, a very fine and expensive way to fulfil that purpose, sure, but that suited Romano just perfectly if it meant he could finally shut Prussia up for longer than five minutes.

The deep red-patterned sash stood starkly against Prussia’s teeth and skin, made his eyes that much more intriguing as they followed Romano eagerly. His hands were tied to the headboard and he bucked his hips as Romano trailed kisses down his stomach and along his hipbone.

The muffled whine was absolutely worth indulging Prussia in whatever filthy fantasies he had, Romano reflected, biting the inside of Prussia’s thigh for a repeat experience.


	22. Orange (Prumano)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 27 October 2018  
> Pairing: Prussia/South Italy  
> Prompt: Orange  
> Rating: M  
> Word count: 120

There was something about Lovino illuminated by the orange light of the setting sun that made Gilbert’s heart do things it was not supposed to do. It was even worse now with Lovino’s thick thighs pressed against his hips, hand splayed on his chest, muscle working to keep a steady rhythm.

In a way, Lovino looked like art, bronzed and glowing, stark features framed by dark curls, golden eyes fixed on Gilbert’s. Very moving and physical art, that hurled a lot of insults his way when he was being particularly cheeky and said cheesy stuff like that out loud.

Now, though, Lovino hunched forward, traced light fingers along Gilbert’s jaw, and murmured, “Gorgeous,” leaving Gilbert breathless as he kissed him.


	23. Mistletoe (Lietbela)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 28 October 2018  
> Pairing: Lithuania/Belarus  
> Prompt: Anon: LietBela and 11 pleasee? (Kiss in joy)  
> Rating: Gen  
> Word count: 166  
> Note: I feel it’s not so much joy, but hmmmm Lithuania is certainly happy, so im sorry but also not because I feel this suits them a little better

When America slammed into his back, drunk and on a mission, Lithuania should have gathered that his evening was about to take a turn, though in what direction was still up in the air. As up in the air as the piece of mistletoe dangling above his head in the doorway, and he glanced down to find Belarus looking at him, face carefully blank.

“Oh,” Lithuania said, turning his head to see America tumble over the back of the couch, right on Russia’s lap. If he was distracted, then the evening had a lot less chance of turning too awful, he supposed.

A soft hand held his chin, kept his face in place, and Lithuania stood stiffly until very soft lips kissed his cheek. He blinked, glanced at Belarus as she brushed her hair behind her ear.

Lithuania laughed, then leaned forward to press a quick kiss to her lips. He didn’t miss the small smile that graced them as she ducked back into the crowd.


	24. Morning (Dennor)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 28 October 2018  
> Pairing: Denmark/Norway  
> Prompt: Anon: Maybe DenNor with 50 if you're ok with it :D (Kiss out of love)  
> Rating: Gen  
> Word count: 98  
> Note: I do very loose interpretations of these prompts whoops

 

Early morning, cold winter air and no immediate obligations made Norway want to huddle further into the warm covers and drift off for a good hour more.

Denmark snored softly beside him, and that was still a little new, still very unknown, but his arms around Norway’s waist were just as warm and cozy as the covers and just as good to huddle into.

He twisted around, pressed his nose against Denmark’s cutely scrunched up one before kissing him, and he wriggled down so he could cuddle, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend with a happy little sigh.


	25. Casual (Spamano)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 28 October 2018  
> Pairing: Spain/South Italy  
> Prompt: Raspberrydevil: Spamano & 14 for the Kiss prompts? :D (Kiss casually)  
> Rating: Gen  
> Word count: 126

 

Spain was just chatting with Belgium before the start of the meeting when Romano walked up to him, tilted his head and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth before continuing on his way to Greece.

Spain stared after him, thread of the conversation forgotten as Belgium giggled. He touched his lips, more a reminder that that had actually happened, then glanced back at her for confirmation.

She shrugged, clasping her hands behind her back. “Cute,” she sang, stressing the vowel to ridiculous proportions.

Hiding his face in his hands momentarily to will his blush away, Spain spied Romano grinning cheekily at him from the other side of the room, and he wondered if Germany would postpone the meeting on grounds of heart palpitations.


	26. Encouragement (Romerica)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 30 October 2018  
> Pairings: America/South Italy   
> Prompts: 18. Kiss as encouragement (for Romerica)  
> Rating: Gen  
> Word counts: 168

America was so stupidly jittery before he had to present in a meeting. He kept bouncing on his feet, fiddling with his tie, undoing and redoing his buttons, twisting his cufflinks, absolutely unable to stand still.

It was pissing Romano off.

“If you lose those, I will kill you,” he said, taking America’s hands in his. “They were expensive.”

America licked his lips, eyebrows slanted down as he met Romano’s frown. “I’m sorry. I’m just…” He rolled his shoulders, foot tapping out a nonsense rhythm on the carpet.

“Nervous, I know.” Romano had the urge to skip the meeting altogether if it meant America would stop worrying, but that meant reproving looks from Germany and possibly another lecture from his own damn brother, so instead he kissed him.

It had the desired effect of stopping America’s movements, so Romano dropped his hands and straightened America’s tie and lapels.

“You’ll do fine, Al,” Romano said, splaying his hands on America’s chest, and pressed another quick kiss to his lips.


	27. Control (Prubela)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 30 October 2018  
> Pairings: Prussia/Belarus  
> Prompts: 36. Kiss to give up control. (for Prubela)  
> Rating: Gen  
> Word counts: 106  
> Note: This is overly pretentious oh god

She wanted nothing more than to be in control, at any and all times, needing that little bit of security in the face of relentless submission.

He was used to being in control, to have his life in his own hands and to make his own decisions, a feeling so ingrained that when he lost it, he no longer knew who he was.

Together they seek for a way to alleviate their needs, their wishes, their powerlessness. They gravitate toward each other, kindred spirits in the face of their current adversity.

When they kiss, it’s so neither has to feel they lost something, a mutual surrender.


	28. Teardrop (Sufin)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 31 October 2018  
> Pairing: SuFin  
> Prompt: Anon: Can I request SuFin woth 6 for the kiss prompts? (Kiss on a falling tear.)  
> Rating: Gen  
> Word count: 180  
> Note: Sad prompt is sad

The one evening Tino comes home late, the one evening the company he worked for had a major data loss and he had to work overtime, is the one evening he really _shouldn_ _’t_ have come home late.

He finds Berwald seated at the kitchen table, head bowed, glasses lying next to the letter Berwald still seems to be reading.

Tino knows. He doesn’t have to read the letter to figure it out.

He lifts Berwald’s face gently, presses his lips to his cheeks, to where the tears still glisten in the light.

“We could always ask Luka. She did offer,” Tino says softly, and crumples the rejection letter to be burned in the fireplace later.

Berwald presses his forehead against Tino’s shoulder, and Tino reaches up to run his fingers through his hair.

“Later. Need to—” Berwald chokes, fingers curling around Tino’s waist, pulling him down on his lap and wrapping him into a firm hug. He needs the comfort, and Tino murmurs soothingly, deciding that this is the last time he’s going to let Berwald break down over this.


	29. Secrecy (HunBelg)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 6 November 2018  
> Pairing: Hungary/Belgium  
> Prompt: Anon: If you're still doing the kiss prompts, could you do 8 for Hungary x Belgium? (Kiss in secrecy)  
> Rating: Gen  
> Word count: 168  
> Note: in the words of my literary theory professor: “Finally! Lesbians!” (also I don’t think I ever want to stop with the kiss prompts tbh; they're too cute)

 

Belgium keeps giggling, trailing her fingers over Hungary’s arm. She shifts, presses closer to Hungary in the already limited space available to them.

Hungary holds Belgium’s hips, can’t stop smiling herself as Belgium rubs her nose against hers.

They don’t really have to hide, but it’s all still so fresh to them, so very new, that they prefer to still be lost in their own little world, away from prying eyes and whispered gossip. So once the world meeting had been suspended for a break, they had sneaked off to a little deserted hallway, squeezed in an old, shallow niche, and just spent their time touching, getting to know each other further.

They kiss, and it’s soft and sweet and loving, wanting nothing more than to make each other happy.

Belgium sighs as Hungary trails more kisses down her neck, simple little pecks that border on ticklish, and wonders if she could get Romano to cover for her if she and Hungary conveniently wouldn’t return to the meeting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My [writing Tumblr](http://writingsofasnowywolff.tumblr.com) if people want to send in more kiss requests. You can find the list [here](http://writingsofasnowywolff.tumblr.com/tagged/prompts)


	30. Sick (Dennor)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 9 November 2018  
> Pairing: Dennor  
> Prompt: Anon: 4 or 30 kiss with dennor? (30. Kiss as comfort)  
> Rating: Gen  
> Word count: 144

Denmark was huddled in bed in about five blankets, feeling utterly miserable and for once not trying to cheer himself out of it. There was nothing fun about being ill, about his brain either working too slow or too fast, or the shivers running down his spine, or the fever ravishing his body. Not even the prospect of not going in for work couldn’t cheer him up.

He really wished he had some soup, or the ability to open his eyes without feeling about twenty times worse.

The door clicked open and the mattress depressed where Norway sat down. He ran a hand through Denmark’s messy bangs as the other moaned in mild despair.

“You should’ve texted me,” Norway said softly. “Have you eaten anything?”

Denmark mumbled something that might be words, and Norway leaned over to press a kiss to his sweaty forehead.


	31. Reunion (Gremano)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 9 November 2018  
> Pairing: Greece/South Italy  
> Prompt: Anon: If prompts are still open, 11 for Greece/Romano? (Kiss in joy)  
> Rating: Gen  
> Word count: 229  
> Note: Bless ye for indulging me in my boys, anon. Bless ye

It’s been too long, Herakles reflects as he waits for the car to arrive. He’s been pacing up and down his house, his garden, and even took a long walk along the cliff side to stop himself from fidgeting too much.

Three years, with only letters and rough drafts of Lovino’s latest works. Three years of Herakles meaninglessly living his life like he used to, caught between farming and disappointing his family. Three years since that fateful week in Paris, where his life changed forever.

The low rumble of a car had Herakles drop one of his cats. Demeter skitters away, and Herakles briefly wonders if he should set up a prayer against a bad harvest, but then the gravel crunches behind him and he forgets about it immediately.

He turns slowly, misses the driver nodding his goodbye as he’s captivated by Lovino, and doesn’t know what to do. They stare at each other long enough for the car to drive away, and suddenly it’s them and only them and the world doesn’t matter—

Lovino drops his suitcase and walks swiftly up to Herakles, pulls down his face and kisses him breathless. He pulls away momentarily, enough for his golden eyes to search Herakles’, desperately, achingly, happily—and Herakles smiles, forgets about any nerves at all, and kisses him again, pouring all his own happiness and love into it.


	32. Late Night Walk (Lietpol)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 10 December 2018  
> Pairing: Lithuania/Poland  
> Prompt: Anon: Late night walk with Lietpol?  
> Rating: T  
> Word count: 406  
> Note: Drunk dorks being drunk dorks

He’s drunk. Feliks is so very drunk, though he pretends not to be, and is failing miserably at that too.

He saunters down the street, all big gestures and excited babbling as he trips over nothing in particular. He stumbles, clasping his arms around Toris’ shoulders, and it takes the help of a streetlight for them to not fall.

Feliks laughs against Toris’ throat, hot breath ghosting over his Adam’s apple. He is no help whatsoever as Toris tries to manoeuvre him so they don't crash to the pavement, but his own laughter rings loudly in the night.

“Tor,” and Feliks rolls the r until he can't breathe. He sputters, snorts, slumps just a little more against Toris. “You're—” He draws back, must have tried to poke Toris’ nose, but missed and his red nail scrapes along his cheek instead. He tries again, slowly, following the shape of Toris’ lips with his thumbs, angles up to press his forefinger against Toris’ nose. “You're cute.”

Toris hums, arms wrapped around Feliks’ waist to keep him upright. He plays with the ribbon at the back of his shirt until Feliks begins to tilt again and he has to grab him firmly.

“And you're drunk,” he laughs, manages somehow to manoeuvre Feliks against his side, one arm wrapped around his waist, the other pushing away from the streetlight before quickly reaching out to grab Feliks’ hand as he stumbles.

“Very,” Feliks agrees, clasping tightly to Toris.

Belatedly, Toris realizes that the steps Feliks makes are from a waltz, and how Feliks even has the mental capacity to do those correctly even as they walk is beyond Toris, but he allows Feliks to drag him along.

Feliks attempts to twirl Toris, which works only because Toris trips, and through some strange miracle he ends in a dip, though the miracle’s name is Feliks, Blackpool dance competitor and winner.

Despite this, even Toris knows that Feliks has bowed too low and that tumbling to the pavement is a matter of gravity. Yet before that can happen, Toris decides to help it along and he reaches up to cup Feliks’ jaw. He kisses him, straining his neck a little.

The wind is knocked from Toris as Feliks lands heavily on top of him, and further more as he continues kissing him. And it's disgustingly sloppy and tastes of vodka, but Toris wouldn't trade it for the world, wrapping his arms around Feliks.


	33. Confession (Lietbela)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 10 December 2018  
> Pairing: Lithuania/Belarus  
> Prompt: Anon: Lietbela and "confession " for the prompt?  
> Rating: Gen  
> Word count: 368
> 
>  

 

Natalya absently stirs her caramel latte, eyes faraway as she waits for Toris. She had ordered for him too, and smoke curls lazily above the cup of espresso.

The door opens and a flurry of snow follows him inside. His cheeks are flushed as he drops in the chair opposite of her and he smiles, touching her hand shortly in thanks.

“One day, I'll be here before you, Natasha,” he says as he rubs his hands together. “Ah, it's freezing.”

Natalya hums, returns his smile shortly, perhaps a little stiffly because he pauses, leans closer.

She stomps her nerves and says, “Once you learn how to read a clock, maybe.”

He laughs, throws his head back when he does, eyes shining. He wags his finger as he smiles teasingly, and his knees bump against hers as he scoots his chair closer to the table. “ ‘Maybe,’ she says! How unfair! I brave traffic and a winter storm—my very _life_!—to meet up with you.”

Natalya snorts as he huffs dramatically, obviously having hung around Feliks too long.

Gathering her confidence, she reaches across the table and takes his hand, brushes her fingers against the cold skin. He eyes her, but opens up his long fingers for her to caress.

“And I appreciate your sacrifice greatly,” she says, runs her fingers lightly up to his wrist. “I…” The words stick in her throat and she lowers her eyes, feeling foolish.

Toris is quiet, but then he lifts her chin with his free hand, smiles kindly as their eyes meet. “You?” he prompts softly.

She licks her lips, braces her arm on the table so she has the leverage to bridge the small gap between them and press their lips together in a chaste, coffee-scented kiss.

“I love you,” she says as she falls back in her chair, embarrassed and hiding it in her coffee cup.

Toris stares at her, hand hovering over his mouth. Then, he smiles, begins to laugh, reaches forward to lower the cup away from her face, placing it firmly on the table and taking her hand in his.

“I see,” he says and touches her cheek with his free hand. “I love you too.”


	34. Technical Malfunction (Spamano)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 10 December 2018  
> Pairing: Spain/South Italy  
> Prompt: Anon: Aaaa some spamano pleasee  
> Rating: Gen  
> Word count: 516  
> Note: Since no prompt was given, I'll have the boys suffer through the hell that happened to me while waiting on my flight to Spain.

 

Lovino glowered at nothing in particular. He was cold, wet and in an all-around foul mood, and not even a coffee or his brother’s attempts at complaining could alleviate his piss-poor attitude.

He just wasn't made to be woken at ungodly hours to drive to the airport, having to deal with his brother’s disgusting displays of farewell as he froze his ass off in the German winter.

And now, he found himself stood outside, at six fucking am, in the fucking rain, in German fucking winter weather, all due to a fucking technical malfunction, whatever the fuck that was supposed to mean.

He wrapped his scarf a little tighter around his throat, a near attempt at strangling himself just to be done with it, and glared at the fire truck stood before him. Feliciano stood next to him, anxiously hopping from foot to foot, gnawing on his lip.

“How long are they going to have us _freeze to death_ out here,” Lovino snarled loudly, eyeing a man dressed in a yellow jacket.

Feliciano tugged at his arm, a warning on his lips, but Lovino ignored him. He had half a mind to go back inside, life be damned, because he was starting to lose feeling in his fingers.

Lovino stood on the tips of his toes to try and glance over the crowd, but there was nothing to see but stupidly tall Germans. Just as he rocked back on his heels, he met a pair of green eyes, and he scowled more, glancing away. He rubbed his hands together, breathed into the cup of his hands to attempt to warm them.

He startled as someone touched his shoulder and he once more met those startlingly green eyes, set in a handsome face framed by messy curls. The man smiled; Lovino frowned.

“Gloves?” he asked in Italian, offering a pair of sleek black gloves.

Lovino stared at them, then back up at the man. The smile didn't falter.

“What?”

“You're cold. I heard.” The man’s eyes twinkled as he pushed his gloves into Lovino’s fumbling fingers. “I don't need them.”

Lovino opened his mouth, closed it again as someone shouted something German and Feliciano said they could go back inside. When Lovino looked back, the man had vanished, and he still had the gloves clutched tightly in his fingers.

“He was cute,” Feliciano said as they followed everyone back inside, grinning as Lovino fingered the gloves absently. “You should've asked his number.”

“He was weird,” Lovino huffed, then paused as he felt something firm when he tried to ball the gloves.

Confused, he reached inside one of them and retrieved a card. A business card, on name of Antonio Fernández Carriedo, ES/IT/DU/FR/EN translator, with a phone number printed in neat letters. On it, written in Italian, stood, _call me_ , complete with a winkey face.

Lovino touched his cheek, covered the laugh that escaped his lips and stuffed the gloves in his pocket. He carefully put the card in his wallet, then snorted again.

“It's too fucking early for this,” he muttered.


	35. Promise (Lietpol)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 10 December 2018  
> Pairing: Lithuania/Poland  
> Prompt: Nordicsawesome: Could you maybe do LietPol and 29 (kiss as a promise) for the kiss prompts, if that’s okay?  
> Rating: Gen  
> Word count: 171

Throughout his life, Poland had made many promises he hadn't kept. It was difficult to when you were a country, when you had duties to your people and your leaders, when you didn't have a choice to listen when ordered.

Yet, he tried. He desperately tried to keep them, or make them lenient enough so he _could,_ but he couldn't do more than try.

Lithuania knew this too, so he never asked for them. Instead, when Poland came to him, clothes in tatters and tears pouring down his face, Lithuania promised him.

Pressing his lips to Poland’s gently, he whispered his promises: to love him, to take care of him, to never hurt him purposefully, to make him feel safe and loved, no matter if the world turned against him time and time again. With every promise, another kiss until he lingered, and Poland’s arms wrapped around him.

Kissing him deeply, Poland conveyed his own promises, his trust, his love, his being. Lithuania understood, he always did.

And that was enough.


	36. Habit (Spamano)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 10 December 2018  
> Pairing: Spain/South Italy  
> Prompt: Raspberrydevil: Oh, I just saw your post, uhm... hoping that I'm not annoying with the ship, maybe Spamano and from the kiss meme 48'…out of habit.'  
> Rating: Gen  
> Word count: 469
> 
>  

Antonio doesn't quite know how it happened, and didn't realize it had happened until someone pointed it out to him, but somewhere along the line, he had begun dating Lovino.

It had been such a gradual shift, with the tiniest changes in behaviour and interactions, that Antonio had just gone along with, hadn't questioned ever. How Lovino began to touch him more, innocently at first, by steering him by the elbow whenever he was lost in thought, until he began to place his hand on Antonio’s back just whenever, a warm comfort that Antonio leaned into. How Lovino stayed over for dinner, or invited him over instead, which would eventually lead to either simply staying over, to having breakfast and lunch together, until Lovino seemed to very rarely ever be at his own apartment. How his kisses had strayed from his cheek to his lips, and really, that should've told Antonio enough, but somehow it had become so habitual that he completely forgot that that wasn't exactly something friends did.

He hadn't thought of it at all until one evening, when Gilbert and Francis were over, Lovino entered the house with his key, which Antonio had given him for emergencies. Gilbert and Francis had watched, confused, as Lovino had leaned over Antonio’s shoulder, asked something about meeting his family, and, as Antonio turned his head to answer him, kissed him full on the mouth, sauntering off to the kitchen after Antonio gave his answer.

“What was that?” Gilbert asked.

“Hm?” Antonio played a card. “What was what?”

Gilbert and Francis shared a look.

Francis ventured, “You never told us you and Lovino were in a relationship.”

Antonio blinked, stared at them, dropped his cards on the table and walked to the kitchen. He replayed every interaction he and Lovino had had the past months, realized with sudden clarity that, yes, they _were_.

“We’re dating?” he asked Lovino, who was reading the label on the milk carton in front of the fridge.

Lovino looked up, appeared as confused as Antonio, but apparently for different reasons. “Yes?”

“Oh,” Antonio said, scratching his head. “Since when?”

“What do you mean, ‘since when’?” Lovino replaced the milk and closed the fridge, frowning. “Since April, dipshit.”

It was _November._

Antonio opened his mouth, decided this wasn't worth an argument, and laughed instead. He laughed until his stomach hurt and he bent double, clutching the counter as he snorted. Lovino looked as if he'd lost his mind, and maybe he had, because apparently they had been dating for half a year without Antonio’s knowledge and he didn't even care.

“I love you,” Antonio said breathlessly, still recovering.

Lovino raised an eyebrow, wrapping his arms around Antonio’s neck as Antonio placed his hands on Lovino’s hips.

“Love you too,” he said, bemused, as Antonio kissed him.


	37. Lazy Morning (Prumano)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 10 December 2018  
> Pairing: Prussia/South Italy  
> Prompt: Anon: Prompt: Lazy morning in bed  
> Rating: T  
> Word count: 214
> 
>  

 

Lovino loved waking up to Gilbert snoring into his shoulder, if only because it was so very rare for Lovino to be awake before his husband. It generally meant that Lovino had fucked him to heaven and back, which meant that getting up wasn't on anyone’s mind for the time being, which meant that the world could go to hell for all Lovino cared.

He wriggled until Gilbert mumbled and his arms slackened from around his waist, giving Lovino the space to turn around and press closer.

Tangling his legs between Gilbert’s, Lovino brushed his thumbs over his cheeks, follows the line of his cheekbones, tickled him behind his ears before brushing back his hair. Gilbert mumbled incoherently, nuzzling closer, and Lovino pressed soft kisses against his hairline, chuckling as Gilbert’s arms tightened around him.

“Good morning,” Lovino muttered, and received a pinch in his butt in reply. He squeaked, and Gilbert’s throaty laugh felt wonderful against his neck.

“Morning,” he answered and rolled onto his back, taking Lovino with him. He winced slightly, shifting a little while Lovino made himself comfortable against his side, fingers splayed on his chest. “I’m never leaving the bed again.”

Lovino grinned and pressed a kiss against his chest. “Don’t worry, _caro_. I’ll take care of you today.”


	38. Quiet (Prumano)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 22 December 2018  
> Pairing: Prussia/South Italy  
> Prompt: Quiet  
> Rating: T  
> Word count: 314  
> Note: Human AU. Preamble to my secret santa gift whoops but my brain is severely uninspired lately.

The quiet is disconcerting.

Lovino is so used to the noise and chaos during the holidays, and especially during Christmas when just about every relative decides to come over, whether it actually fits in the house or not, that he doesn’t quite know how to deal without it. Yet, he’s no longer in Italy, instead stuck in freezing Massachusetts, and he’s afraid that if he leaves the US now, he will lose his nerve and never return at all, settling for a life on the farm instead of a dream to create.

He curls up on the couch, turns on the TV to have some pretence at human noise to distract him from the chilling loneliness, slightly embarrassed to admit that he’d even take his annoying roommate at this point, just to have someone else _there_.

When the door bangs open, Lovino wonders if Christmas miracles only happen to spite him.

“Lovino, you will not fucking _believe_ this bullshit!” Gilbert says as he rolls his suitcase back into his room, a flurry of snow following him. “Flight cancelled! The day before Christmas! They gave me a _voucher_ to make up for it!”

He stomps back into the living room, shrugs off his coat and drops on the couch next to Lovino, taking the remote and turning the TV to another Christmas special. He turns to Lovino, clearly expecting something validating his experience. Lovino just stares at him blankly.

After a long pause, all he can manage is a slightly confused, “You’re staying?”

“Fuck, yes. I’m not swimming across the damn ocean,” Gilbert says, eyeing the blanket Lovino has. “Shit, Lovi. It’s freezing; do we have another one?”

They don’t, but Lovino isn’t in the worst of moods, so he stretches his legs across Gilbert’s, and for once Gilbert doesn’t complain, simply takes what he can of the blanket and settles against the couch cushions.


	39. Lights (Denmano)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 22 December 2018  
> Pairing: Denmark/South Italy  
> Prompt: Lights  
> Rating: Gen  
> Word count: 282

Lovino is frowning. That in itself isn't so strange, but there is a twitch to his lips, which he purses to try and stave off the unavoidable a little longer.

He clears his throat, turns to Mikkel. “Why is there a ten foot Christmas tree in the middle of your living room?”

Mikkel stops fiddling with the lights to chirp brightly, “Because it's almost Christmas and I've always wanted a huge tree!”

Lovino points, eyebrows raised. “It doesn't even fucking fit, Mikkel.”

Mikkel glances up to where the tree bends and scrapes across the ceiling. “I mean, I could cut a hole in the ceiling.” He turns back to Lovino, finds him with a hand covering his mouth, definitely pushing back a smile. “Besides, the man I bought it from told me it doesn't lose many needles.”

Lovino shakes his head. “Right. Okay. I know your bedroom is above here. Don't do that.” He eyes Mikkel then, to where he stands on a ladder, covered in Christmas lights of various colours, shapes and sizes. He snorts. “Shit. This tree is going to be so hideous.”

Mikkel glances at the boxes with ornaments he has accumulated over the years behind Lovino, unknown territory even to him. “It's all in the name of the Christmas spirit, Lovino!” he says happily. “Help me out?”

Lovino sighs, accepts an armload of coloured and duck-shaped lights and begins working on the other side. “Next year, we're buying a tree together.”

Mikkel beams and, if he hadn't been stuck in threads of lights, would have jumped down to kiss him. Instead, he settles for a hand blown kiss, which Lovino returns before ducking away to hide his embarrassment.


	40. Snowstorm (Prumano)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 22 December 2018  
> Pairing: Prussia/South Italy  
> Prompt: Snowstorm  
> Rating: Gen  
> Word count: 80

 

Gilbert knew it was terribly cliche, but as a blizzard raged on outside their little cabin, it really did seem like a really good decision.

Lovino had more than gladly obliged, settling between Gilbert’s legs and against his chest, a small heater all of himself. His curls tickle Gilbert’s nose as he tucked the blankets around them.

Lovino’s fingers were warm as they wrapped around Gilbert’s frozen ones, and Gilbert became warmer still when Lovino twisted slightly to kiss him.


	41. Jewelry (Belamano)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 22 December 2018  
> Pairing: Belarus/Nyo!South Italy  
> Prompt: Jewelry   
> Rating: M (NSFW)  
> Word count: 143  
> Note: My most self-indulgent rarepair

 

This time it started with a necklace. A necklace, too much Italian wine, and a kiss.

Natalya kisses along the thin diamond necklace that rests against Chiara’s throat, that glimmers in the low lights of early morning, that looks as if it belongs to Chiara, while it’s actually some rich baroness’, something worn only to expensive galas where neither of them belong.

It isn’t new, and they know each other’s bodies quite well by now, but it is still so exciting, as they still run on the night’s adrenaline, wanting nothing more than to be closer.

Chiara brushes her fingers through Natalya’s long hair, arches against her when Natalya’s nimble fingers tease her nipples, moans along Natalya’s movements.

Natalya kisses her, shudders when Chiara rubs her knee between her legs teasingly, doesn’t think she wants this night to ever come to an end.


	42. Bound (Prumano)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 22 December 2018  
> Pairing: Prussia/South Italy  
> Prompt: Bound  
> Rating: M (NSFW)  
> Word count: 174

 

It had taken some convincing before Romano had agreed to Prussia’s request. So, as to make sure he was as comfortable as possible, he moved slowly, honouring the trust Romano had placed in him, wanting nothing more than to please him.

Romano’s breath hitched as Prussia sucked at the base of his throat, and it was so strange how quiet Romano was, biting his lips, somehow so shy without the ability to act.

Prussia took a moment to sit back, hand pressed against Romano’s thigh, rubbing gentle circles, simply watching the slow rise and fall of his chest, the way his body lied spread-eagled before him. Yet, even for Prussia it was a little strange to not have those sharp, golden eyes focused on him, to not have those skilled, calloused fingers caress his skin.

Reaching forward, Prussia brushed his thumbs over the blindfold, kissed Romano softly, smiled when Romano tried to follow him as he pulled back, a soft whine leaving his lips as Prussia nipped a path back down his neck.


	43. Worship (Belamano)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 22 December 2018  
> Pairing: Belarus/South Italy  
> Prompt: Worship  
> Rating: M (NSFW)  
> Word count: 169

 

It’s a rare occurrence, that he does this with her. That he’s soft and warm all around, and wordy in his compliments. Normally, he’s a little more rough, because that’s how she prefers it, to have that proof of physicality there, and he leaves the praises in kisses and bites, in moans and shudders.

Now, he mutters against her collarbone, soft praises that leave her gasping as much as his movements. He kisses every inch of her body, tells her how beautiful she is, how wonderful, how important and loved she is.

He worships her, just for tonight, just as a reminder when the world tells her she is dispensable and her mind tells her she’s dust. He reminds her that she has purpose, that she is real, that she is everything to him.

It aches, just a little, and she holds onto him tighter, shivers when he enters her, gives her answers in short little gasps until she can’t take it anymore and comes with a soundless cry.


	44. Duality (South Italy)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 5 January 2019  
> Character: South Italy  
> Prompt: Duality  
> Rating: Gen  
> Word count: 107  
> Note: this became really introspective and very much based on headcanons of headcanons but hmmmm

 

The duality of man is fearsome. Romano has always thought that, and will do so until the day he dies.

He has seen millenniums of it now. How man promises one thing, then delivers on another. How they look down on others below their upturned noses, yet preach the good of mankind through crooked teeth. How, when there is little more in life than death, they hope for redemption while condemning those who hope for the same.

Yet, he likes to observe, to see mankind wrestle with their own morality time and time again. Like a bad accident continuing to become worse, it is equally continuous entertainment.


	45. In the Middle (Prucanmano)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 5 January 2019  
> Pairing: Prussia/Canada/South Italy  
> Prompt: In the middle  
> Rating: Gen  
> Word count: 110

 

If Canada is being honest with himself, he will admit he hadn’t expected their relationship to work out as well as it has. Certainly, Romano and Prussia have very clashing personalities, with very different ideals and thoughts and views. Yet, they’re similar too, in the way the world views them, the many secrets they carry for the sake of their brothers, how the past burdens and cripples them both.

And no matter how often Canada finds himself caught in the middle between them, catching Prussia when he is falling or encouraging Romano when he is faltering, he doesn’t regret loving them, not when they see him while no else does.


	46. Beginning (Prumano)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 5 January 2019  
> Pairing: Prussia/South Italy  
> Prompt: Beginning  
> Rating: Gen  
> Word count: 169

 

The restaurant was small, quaint, and stupidly noisy.

Gilbert scooted as close to the table as he could, his knees brushing Lovino’s underneath it, and he touched Lovino’s wrist as the other stared at the chaos unfolding around them.

Lovino leaned closer and whispered, loudly, “I’m willing to offer you a second first date if we leave right now.”

Laughing, Gilbert nodded and they manoeuvred past tables until they stood in the cool February air. Gilbert didn’t bother to zip up his coat yet, still hot from the stuffed restaurant, but Lovino was busy wrapping a scarf around his neck, fingers making quick work of the buttons on his coat. He startled Gilbert by taking his hand and tugging him along down the street.

“Where are we going?” Gilbert asked as he fell into step beside Lovino, trying not to be too giddy as Lovino stuffed both their hands in his coat pocket.

“I don’t know,” Lovino said and he grinned up at Gilbert. “But I’m open to suggestions.”


	47. Frozen (Lietbela)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 5 January 2019  
> Pairing: Lithuania/Belarus  
> Rating: Gen  
> Word count: 179

 

She’s seated on the couch, shivering, blankly staring at the fire crackling in the fireplace.

Lithuania has wrapped her in just about every blanket he could find in the house, slightly terrified to not meet any resistance from her. He watches her from the kitchen, the way droplets roll from her hair, across her cheeks and down her chin. Her lips no longer have a blue tinge, but she’s still scarily white, scarily quiet.

He returns with hot coffee and carefully takes a seat next to her, wondering if this side of Belarus would allow him to find and hold her hand, but doesn’t quite dare to try.

He freezes when her head drops to his shoulder, a sigh so heavy and tired accompanying her defeat that Lithuania becomes seriously worried. Yet, he can’t ask, not when a hand worms its way from the confines of the blankets and takes his tightly, desperately, pleadingly.

Giving hers a comforting squeeze in return, he dares to rest his head against hers and hopes to convey whatever comfort she needs right now.


	48. Rope (Prumano)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 19 January 2019  
> Pairing: Prussia/South Italy  
> Prompt: Rope  
> Rating: M (NSFW)  
> Word count: 188

 

Romano had been sceptical when Prussia had brought it up the first time. The mere thought of powerlessness made Romano uncomfortable, but fuck, if Prussia wanted to be tied up, then who was Romano to refuse?

So, that night, Prussia’s arms were tied behind his back, and his ankles tied to his thighs with another rope connecting them to his wrists, though it had taken Romano a couple of tries to tie them well. And then Romano had gotten up to get the lube, but was now standing at the end of the bed, admiring his work.

The red ropes were incredibly aesthetically pleasing, fitting so wonderfully against Prussia’s pale skin, and the angle did wonderful things to Romano’s libido, that much was certain.

He climbed on the bed behind Prussia and ran his hand over his calf, had half a mind to tickle the underside of his feet in retaliation for last week, but the soft mewl that came from Prussia had Romano much more interested in squeezing more similar sounds from him.

Smiling, he pressed a kiss to Prussia’s butt and murmured, “Oh, this’ll be _fun_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on my [writing Tumblr](http://writingsofasnowywolff.tumblr.com)


	49. Roses (England)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 19 January 2019  
> Character: England  
> Prompt: Roses  
> Rating: T  
> Word count: 137  
> Note: War of the Roses  
> Warning: blood
> 
>  

 

He could taste blood.

England stumbled, clutched the wall for support, breathed in, realized his mistake, and coughed. Blood on the wall now, and himself kneeling on the floor, clutching his shirt, hating the voices in his mind, poisoning his land, their nation, torn.

He didn’t even know what side he was on, if he was supposed to pick a side, or hope that they would sort themselves out before there was nothing left and France decided to reintroduce himself to his country.

Red on white, white on red, so much blood spilled, so much more blood to be spilled. England tugged at his hair, jogged himself from the battlefields, and forced himself to his feet, to his chambers.

Sleep would not come, but, for a moment, he could pretend the voices weren’t calling for their nation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on my [writing Tumblr](http://writingsofasnowywolff.tumblr.com)


	50. Melody (Belgium)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 19 January 2019  
> Character: Belgium  
> Prompt: Melody  
> Rating: Gen  
> Word count: 138  
> Note: based on my headcanon belgium is a huge music nerd

 

There is melody in everything. Even when there is no music, there is a tune, a beat, on which the world revolves, to her at least.

She bounces with every step she takes, twirls around the people in the market place, thinks today fits Debussy’s Arabesque No. 1 very well, with rain on the horizon, but no need to be dreary.

There is little for her in a world without sound, both dreadfully boring and awfully meaningless. Music gave her something to do when she had little to _do_. When she, as a woman, was allowed very little in a world ruled by men, music and song saved her from an empty existence.

So, she hums and she dances and she joins the busker on the corner of the station and the world becomes a little less bleak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on my [writing Tumblr](http://writingsofasnowywolff.tumblr.com)


	51. Alone & Memory (Prumano)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 19 January 2019  
> Pairing: Prussia/South Italy  
> Prompt: Alone / Memory (/Fantasy)  
> Rating: M (NSFW)  
> Word count: 170

 

Lovino is quite certain he probably shouldn’t have started this, but with Gilbert so willing underneath him, so responsive to his kisses and touches, it’s hard to stop.

It has been forever since he has last had a human like this, at least a hundred years, and none had ever been like Gilbert. So forward, so aroused, even with the knowledge of what Lovino is.

Then again, Lovino had never actually managed to seduce a Hunter before.

As Lovino grazes his teeth against Gilbert’s throat, careful not to break skin, but wanting nothing more than to drink his blood, he can’t help but shudder as Gilbert wraps his legs around his waist. Gilbert’s fingers tug on his hair, and they kiss, and Gilbert whispers, “I should’ve Hunted alone sooner.”

Lovino smiles, then gasps when Gilbert thrusts his hips back and figures he can’t be shown up by some mortal.

Oh, the _noises_. Lovino will carefully store them away in his memory, though he doubts he’ll forget about Gilbert anytime soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on my [writing Tumblr](http://writingsofasnowywolff.tumblr.com)


	52. Hug (Dennor)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 30 January 2019  
> Pairing: Dennor  
> Prompt: Anon: please please please could you write Dennor for prompt 37 (“You look like you need a hug”)?  
> Rating: Gen  
> Word count: 281

 

Norway hasn’t seen Denmark this upset since the Second World War. So angry, bordering on downright furious, that he has stormed into Norway’s house and is currently stewing in the middle of the living room.

Norway hesitates, if only because he can’t quite remember how he used to deal with Denmark’s anger in the past. Probably not at all, he thinks, then says, “You look like you need a hug.”

Denmark turns to him and, despite his rage, he is clearly confused. Norway doesn’t give him, or himself, time to dwell on it and steps forward.

Denmark smells of the ocean, surprisingly, as if he had been too impatient to wait for the ferry and swam across instead. And despite his surprise, he melts into the embrace almost immediately, hands resting against Norway’s shoulder blades before he breathes a shaky sigh and crosses them, mushing Norway against his chest.

Norway finds he doesn’t mind much, and he rubs Denmark’s back absently.

Denmark presses his nose into Norway’s hair, which is strangely ticklish—and he must be imagining Denmark’s lips against his temple because the next moment Denmark allows his head to drop to Norway’s shoulder with a deep sigh, creating space between them but resting his hands on Norway’s hips as if they always have.

“I did need that,” he mumbles, and now his lips are definitely brushing Norway’s neck.

It tingles, but not unpleasantly. Briefly, Norway entertains the thought of those lips against his own, wonders if they’ll taste of the ocean as well, but dismiss it quickly. Instead he turns his face away from where it’s tickled by Denmark’s soft hair and says, “Just don’t make it a habit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on my [writing Tumblr](http://writingsofasnowywolff.tumblr.com)!


	53. The 11th (Germany & Prussia)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 17 February 2019  
> Character: Germany and Prussia  
> Prompt: The 11th  
> Rating: T  
> Word count: 155  
> Note: WW1 Armistice - 11th of the 11th at the 11th hour.

 

Everything hurt. His body, there where he had shattered a rib or two, his mind, which still hadn’t recovered from the bombs, and his very soul, where the people—his people—screamed in agony.

When he had been made the German Empire, Prussia had promised him greatness. Prussia, who had been so high and mighty, now sat crumpled in a chair, looking broken and bone-tired. Prussia, his brother, had apologized, over and over again, until his throat had become sore and scratchy, when the armistice had been announced.

The war, partially over, partially still waging in the back of Germany’s head, at the other fronts. Places he should probably go to soon, but for now, he sank to the floor next to Prussia, so very tired himself.

Prussia’s fingers curled into his hair, something he hadn’t done since Germany had been little, but it was soothing, so Germany let him and closed his eyes.


	54. How Far? (Prucanmano)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 17 February 2019  
> Pairing: Prussia/Canada/South Italy  
> Prompt: How far can you carry this?  
> Rating: Gen  
> Word count: 172  
> Note: attached to a polyamorous fake date au im trying to write lmao

 

Matthew really had to wonder for a moment: how far could they carry this?

He knew there was a line, a boundary, to their little farce. Where this boundary was, however, was a mystery to him, and probably to Lovino and Gilbert as well.

Lovino had his boundaries, where Matthew was allowed to touch him casually and kiss his cheek, but that one time on the lips had been too much, though Matthew wasn’t entirely sure why it disappointed him as much.

Gilbert… had no boundaries at all. Matthew could do just about everything that he would normally do in a relationship.

Not that they were in one. That was probably where the root of the problem lied.

Yet, Matthew couldn’t stop pushing his luck, couldn’t stop himself from falling deeper, couldn’t for the life of him deny that this wasn’t exactly what he wanted.

How far could he carry this?

And Matthew knew the answer, his rationality screamed it at him from where he had locked it firmly away.

 _Too far_.


	55. Crows (Belarus)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 17 February 2019  
> Character: Belarus  
> Prompt: Conversations with the crows.  
> Rating: Gen  
> Word count: 186  
> Note: idk man ive been thinking a lot about witch!belarus for my spooky town verse

 

A tapping on the window, insistent until Natalya opens it, allowing for a flurry of feathers to hop inside. Snow follows them until they ruffle their feathers, cawing in delight as they seat themselves in front of the blazing fire.

One, the oldest, waits on the window sill until Natalya offers her arm for him to perch on, and he allows her to carefully clean the snow off of him as she walks him to the fireplace.

He caws, though it sounds more like a croak, snapping at her fingers impatiently. He has news, of course he has, but Natalya wants to feed the younger ones first, then asks him for a feather. She needs one for a spell, to give some relief to one of the elderly living in her street, and he gives it grudgingly.

“Was it not something you used to tell me,” she says as he flutters to her shoulder, nibbling on her ear in frustration. “Patience is the virtue humankind lacks?”

Another caw, soft and reproachful. Natalya smiles and turns to the kettle, waving her hand to light the fire underneath.

“Then tell me, Ihar. What news does Anthos bring?”


	56. Umbrella (Prumano)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2 March 2019  
> Pairing: Prussia/South Italy  
> Prompt: Umbrella  
> Rating: Gen  
> Word count: 210  
> Note: Look at that open ending because my brain stopped thinking at 11 pm

 

A dark blue umbrella. It was all Lovino had as a description as he ducked through the crowd, after that very umbrella, clutching his bag to his chest.

The rain bore down on him, sticking his clothes to his body, but he had to—

He all but fell into the stranger’s back, umbrella clattering to the ground as Lovino’s weight sent them sprawling.

“I am _so_ sorry. Oh, fuck.” Lovino scrambled away, pushing back his hair as the other man carefully sat up.

Pale hair, deep eyes—Lovino fumbled for his bag and took out the thick leather notebook, hunching over it to keep it as dry as he could.

“You forgot this, at the shop,” he said.

The man stared at the notebook, then back at Lovino, then hid a snort behind his hand, reaching for his umbrella. Holding it up above them, he took it from Lovino.

“You ran two blocks after me to give me a notebook?”

Lovino stared at him, starting to feel the flush of embarrassment creep up his neck. “Customer service?”

The man laughed. “It’s good. Ten out of ten, would visit again.” He glanced down at the notebook thoughtfully. “Did you write your number in here?”

“I… what? No.”

“Would you like to?”


	57. Swindle (Prumano)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2 March 2019  
> Pairing: Prussia/South Italy  
> Prompt: Swindle  
> Rating: Gen  
> Word count: 261

“Oh my God.”

Gilbert was still leaning on the counter, trademark grin in place. The customer opposite him was not smiling. In fact, he was scowling, quite viciously too, but Gilbert had seen and dealt with much worse.

“C’mon, babe, it’s a bargain.”

The man, incredibly handsome were it not for the ever-scowling scowl, shook his head, placing his hands on the counter, leaning closer. It would almost be threatening. You know, if it weren’t for the fact the man had to stand on the tips of his toes to come closer to an even battleground.

“The fuck it isn’t,” he snarled. “I can get a better price from Kirkland, maybe even Braginsky.”

Gilbert’s grin froze. “Definitely not.”

That wiped the scowl clean off, replaced by something more sly, something almost a smirk rivalling Gilbert’s own.

“Oh?” The man snapped back on his heels, arm laid on the counter in a mocking mirror-pose of Gilbert’s. “You sure?”

“Braginsky wouldn’t know what to do with scrap even if it hit him in the face,” Gilbert spat. “What do you want? Two hundred gold pieces?”

Those long fingers crawled closer, innocuously touching Gilbert’s flaying sleeve. “Two hundred?”

Gilbert made the mistake of glancing into those swirling brown eyes, noticed the flutter of eyelashes, and decided that maybe he could let it go for once. He sighed. “No more than two fifty.”

“Sounds like a deal.”

It wasn’t until the stranger had left with a wink and a coy wave that Gilbert realized his own tactic had been turned against him. Fuck.


	58. Skinny Dipping (Prumano)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2 March 2019  
> Pairing: Prussia/South Italy  
> Prompt: Moonlight Skinny Dipping  
> Rating: M   
> Word count: 518

 

Gilbert’s demise came in the form of a dare.

It was rather fitting, he supposed, that he should meet his end like this. Poetic even.

Lovino had tossed off his shirt already, brushing a hand through his hair quickly, glancing back at Gilbert with a grin.

Oh, that grin made Gilbert’s knees go weak, and the noise of Lovino undoing his belt made them like jelly.

Gilbert knew he had to look away at some point, look anywhere else but at Lovino’s sleek long legs, but it was very difficult when Lovino’s underwear was kicked onto the pile of discarded clothing and Gilbert’s imagination was needed no longer.

“Gilbert.” Lovino had turned toward him and it took every ounce of Gilbert’s willpower not to look down. That was inappropriate friend behaviour, he was sure. “A dare’s a dare. And this dare definitely involves getting rid of our clothes and getting wet.”

Gilbert wheezed as Lovino laughed over the insinuation.

Lovino was knee-deep by the time Gilbert had stripped to his boxers and he could feel his ears burn when Lovino began walking backward instead, eyes fixed on Gilbert.

Deciding that it was better to get _everything_ over as quickly as possible, Gilbert shed his boxers and ran into the water, diving in the moment he felt it was deep enough. Lovino’s laughter rang through the air and the Italian surfaced beside him a little later, moonlight glinting off his hair.

“I can’t feel my balls, damn,” Lovino said, kicking back to where he could stand. “Ah, I’m going to kill Francis tomorrow, I swear.”

Gilbert snorted, giving Lovino a push, his confidence having returned slightly now that he was no longer in direct danger of seeing anything inappropriate. “You started it anyway, daring him to streak across campus and all that.”

“Man kept going on about his fantastic dick. I thought I’d give him the chance to show it off.” Lovino paused. “It wasn’t that great.” Then Lovino grinned at Gilbert, so sly, so devious, and his eyes flicked down to the water in front of Gilbert. “I’ve seen better.”

Gilbert wanted to sink through the mud, honestly. “I, um. Well—”

Lovino rolled his eyes, stared at the water for a moment before meeting Gilbert’s eyes resolutely. “I have a dare for you.”

“Now?”

“Yeah. Kiss me.”

“What?”

“I dare you to kiss me.”

Gilbert stared at where he knew the faint blush had to colour Lovino’s cheeks. It was a little hard to make out in the moonlight, but he knew it was there. The observation was frankly the only thing that kept Gilbert’s mind intact, but it frazzled as Lovino stepped closer and placed his hands on Gilbert’s cheeks.

And Gilbert’s poor mouth stuttered out an “Okay,” leaning down to press his lips to Lovino’s.

It was over in a heartbeat, and yet somehow Gilbert’s hands had still migrated to cup Lovino’s jaw. Lovino’s hands dropped to Gilbert’s shoulders, not making any move to part with Gilbert, but waiting for something, obviously, golden eyes shining in anticipation.

So, Gilbert leaned down and kissed him again.


	59. Make Me (Gerita)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 18 March 2019  
> Pairing: Germany/North Italy  
> Prompt: Anon: May I request GerIta, with the prompt "Make me"?  
> Rating: T  
> Word count: 181  
> Note: For the Italy Birthday Requests

 

Veneziano is being particularly obstructive today. He had been reluctant to roll off Germany that morning (though to be fair, Germany had been reluctant to leave the bed too) and is now seated on Germany’s desk, swinging his legs back and forth leisurely.

“Feliciano,” Germany starts.

Veneziano has this ability to act innocent yet make it abundantly clear that he means nothing of said innocence. “Yes?”

Germany sighs. “Please, get off.”

“I’d like to.” Veneziano grins. That accursed spark, that damn _twinkle_ , says everything else Germany has to know.

“My desk, Feliciano.”

“Make me.”

“Feli.” Germany steps closer, flexes his fingers, is quite tempted to lift Veneziano up and away. Perhaps to the bedroom. “I’m not playing this game.”

Veneziano tilts his head and hooks a leg behind Germany’s thigh. “Aren’t you?”

There are a myriad of thing Germany could do to defuse what Veneziano is aiming for, but for lack of want on his own part, he leans down and kisses Veneziano.

“Very well then,” he mutters and lifts Veneziano off the desk. Hopefully he makes it to the bedroom.


	60. Witches (Nyo Italies)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 18 March 2019  
> Characters: Nyo North Italy and Nyo South Italy  
> Prompt: Orit: Nyo italies as witches!  
> Rating: Gen  
> Word count: 482  
> Note: For the Italy Birthday Requests
> 
> Also, throwing in a new name for nyo!veneziano because I dont like genderbending names.

 

If one were to visit the Vargas residence, one would find it hard to spot the stone house hidden behind its garden, covered in vines and other climbing flora. Just the steady stream of white smoke puffing from the chimney revealed that there was a house at all.

It stood at the edge of the forest with a small sign tied to its rusty gate reminding visitors to latch the gate and to not mind the crows.

“Chiara!”

The older sister, hair pinned in what could only be described as an odd fashion from a long time ago, was sat behind the kitchen table, cutting up a salamander in precise, practised movements. A cauldron foamed behind her in the hearth.

The younger sister came bounding in, short ponytail bouncing and skirt flouncing as she slammed her hands on the table.

It said a lot about their interactions that Chiara didn’t do so much as blink, finishing her work before giving Serena her attention.

Serena sat on the edge of the table. “Are you done yet?”

Chiara, having dealt with the same question for millenniums, shoved her chair back and dropped a handful of herbs into the concoction. “What do you think?”

Squinting at Chiara’s face, Serena said tentatively and very slowly, “No?”

“Not for a while.” Chiara returned to the table, scooping up some beetles and the lizard heart. “Did you need me for something else?”

Serene pursed her lips. “No, it's okay. I'm going to head into the forest alone then. Someone has to give our regards to the new faerie queen.”

Chiara glanced up with a start. “They finally decided?”

“Yes!” Serena clapped her hands together excitedly. “Oh, she is supposed to be both lovely and intimidating.”

“It's about time,” Chiara muttered. Louder, she asked, “Have you decided on a gift yet?”

“I wanted your thoughts on it.” Serena procured a small box from which she fished a tiny brooch made from pink dahlias and gladiolus meticulously grown by Serena in their garden and she handed it to Chiara. “To promote our trust and good faith in her. I added a protection charm as well.”

Chiara turned it over and nodded approvingly. She let it roll into the palm of her hand and closed her other over it, closing her eyes and muttering softly. A faint glow, a gentle warmth, and the ring was imbued with the soft touch of healing magic.

“There,” Chiara said, placing it back in the box. “That should do the trick.”

Serene matched her sister’s smile and kissed her cheek. “Okay! Don't wait up for me tonight. Bye!”

Chiara shook her head and returned to the relief potion. She hoped to have it finished before night fell so she could bring it to the elderly couple on the farm down the road; they had been lamenting about back aches the last time Chiara had visited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you ever wonder, “what will make yuki vibrate at an inhuman speed of sheer excitement?” it’s the simple mention of witches


	61. I'm too Sober for This (Prumano)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 18 March 2019  
> Pairing: Prussia/South Italy  
> Prompt: Orit: Prumano + "I'm too sober for this"  
> Rating: T  
> Word count: 588  
> Note: For the Italy Birthday Requests

Alfred’s parties would probably go down in history as The Parties To Be during the early twenty-first century. They were wild, out of control, yet somehow never devolved into absolute disasters. Sure, the British neighbour would stomp in during some ungodly hour, precisely at that ungodly hour, to have a shouting match with the French business major, and the Russian accountancy major would become increasingly affectionate with just about anyone who passed by him, but more often than not, any precarious situation was quickly de-escalated by Alfred, Mr. You're All My Friends So I Refuse to Accept that You’re Not All Each Other’s Friends as Well.

Lovino knew Alfred as the loud kid who always came into his parents’ coffee shop at six a.m. sharp to ogle Lovino sleepily going through the habits of setting up shop. Feliciano knew Alfred as the loud kid who always left at the same time Lovino’s shift ended with an expression which Feliciano had called “a desperate want to tap that ass” and had thus decided to intervene, which had led to one of the most awkward dates of Lovino’s life and they (mostly Alfred) had decided that friends would work instead.

So now Lovino had claimed the lone couch in the living room, sipping on a glass of wine, not quite willing to delve into the table just barely holding up underneath the weight of an unholy amount of alcoholic beverages yet.

His brother had flaunted off with some girl upstairs and Lovino hadn't felt like dealing with the drunken disasters of Antonio and Herakles, so he sat alone, watching people pass by.

He had been enjoying himself, until some idiot decided to vault over the back of the couch and land full on Lovino, forcing the air from Lovino’s lungs with a wheeze.

“The fuck—” the asshole started, voice croaky against Lovino’s neck. He—of that Lovino had no doubt—paused, _sniffed_ , then nuzzled his nose against Lovino’s neck some more.

“What the hell, dude,” Lovino said, loudly, trying to twist and weasel his way around underneath the guy in an attempt to throw him off. When it became clear his captor was taller, broader and heavier than Lovino and absolutely not moving, Lovino dug his nails into what skin he could find. “Move!”

The man did nothing of the sort. “Y’smell nice.”

“Oh my God,” Lovino muttered. “I'm too fucking sober for this shit.”

The man full-out giggled. “I'm not.”

“No fucking shit.”

The man sighed, sounding far too content. His pale hair tickled Lovino’s jaw. “You're a nice pillow. I'm Gilbert.”

Lovino stopped trying to do anything about the lug on his chest because clearly nothing would happen. He wished he still had a drink, but his wine was currently improving the outrageous carpet.

“You're heavy.” He sighed. “I'm Lovino.”

Gilbert pushed himself up slightly, blinking at Lovino. “Oh. _You're_ Lovino?”

Lovino scowled. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.” Gilbert sank back against Lovino, moving his legs to a frankly far more comfortable position for Lovino. Burying his nose back against Lovino’s neck, he mumbled, “You're not just cute—you're handsome as fuck,” and promptly passed out, snoring obnoxiously.

“What the fuck?” Lovino muttered to the suspicious green stain on the ceiling. He never got an answer, though part of him was glad to be stuck underneath Gilbert as he heard the telltale disaster of Alfred finally succumbing to the alcohol; at least he had an excuse as to why he couldn't help out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of the many “god the italies need a drink” prompts i received.


	62. Cooking (North and South Italy)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 18 March 2019  
> Characters: North Italy and South Italy  
> Prompt: Anon: for a drabble, can you do both italies cooking in canonverse? free to interpret however you want  
> Rating: Gen  
> Word count: 458  
> Note: For the Italy Birthday Requests

They don't have dinner together nearly as much as one would assume, seeing as they are the same country. It is their busy schedules that keep them apart however, with Veneziano in charge of most foreign policies while Romano takes care of most home affairs, balancing their specialities and personalities with the workload.

Their apartment in Rome is sparsely lived in, with Romano preferring to work from Naples whenever he can and Veneziano often out of the country or otherwise staying in Venice.

But this particular evening, Veneziano all but kicks down the door to the study where Romano has been pouring over numbers for the better part of the afternoon, wielding a bag of groceries like he intends to slay an Ottoman fleet with them.

“Enough work!” Veneziano announces, pulling back Romano’s chair without too much protest from his brother. “I want to eat and for that to happen cooking must happen, but I don't want to do it alone because that's too much work and I never get the sauce quite like how you make it.”

Romano snorts and follows Veneziano to the kitchen, ruffling his hair before nosing through the groceries.

“You're still making the sauce,” Romano says as he cuts vegetables while Veneziano collects herbs and pots and pans and makes the kitchen an overall mess. At Veneziano’s whine he adds, voice stern yet amused, “You won't learn if you stop trying. And this way I can see what you do and what you might do wrong and correct you. Now”—He shoves the tomatoes in the sauce pan—“show me.”

They work well together and their bickering, if there is any, is good-natured and teasing. Romano watches Veneziano and hums approvingly, only having to swoop in twice to add more garlic and herbs. Then, finally, when they're doing the final touches on the dish, Romano winks at Veneziano and takes out a large glass jar from the pantry. The herbs within have been grounded and mixed, the smell almost overwhelming.

“What _is_ that?” Veneziano has half a mind to stick in his finger and taste, but Romano swats it away.

“One of the seven mysteries of Southern Italy,” he says simply and sprinkles it in lightly, giving the sauce a couple more stirs before pronouncing it done. He hesitates a moment before saying tentatively, “If you'd like to come to Messina with me next week, I can show you how to make it.”

Veneziano beams. “I'd love to!” He instantly begins to babble about how long he hasn't been and if the people are still the same until Romano carefully wraps him in a hug and they stand idly in the kitchen until they're both too hungry to prolong dinner any longer.


	63. Mythical (North and South Italy)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 19 March 2019  
> Character: North Italy and South Italy  
> Prompt: Lotus: Hmm... Both Romano and Veneziano, prompt mythical because I have desperate need XD.  
> Rating: Gen  
> Word count: 480  
> Note: For the Italy Birthday Requests
> 
> Ashdgsfjk mythical is so broad it took me a while to settle on something,,,

Feliciano spread his wings experimentally. He stood at what felt like the edge of the world, toes curling over the ledge, faced with a fly or die situation.

Finally, he was old enough to be allowed the large dive from the nest into the sky, his fluff replaced by beautiful brown feathers. He had felt so large when his mother had groomed the last white fuzz from his wings and his father had exclaimed and twirled him around the room, but now he felt so small again.

He startled backward when Lovino clawed his way up against the rock underneath him, looking too amused for the situation as he rested his forearms on the ground, glancing up at Feliciano curiously.

Lovino chirped encouragingly. “You've been standing here for a while now, Feli.”

“It's scary,” Feliciano muttered, staring at Lovino’s wings, huge and intimidating, twitching in the gentle breeze. His older brother wasn't home very often, but he had returned for Feliciano’s first flight.

Despite being gruff and impatient with most of Feliciano’s antics, Lovino smiled softly. “I know.” He was stood on the ledge with a firm sweep of his wings, kneeling before Feliciano so they were at equal eye level, and took Feliciano’s small hands in his own. “It's okay. I think the sun started to set by the time grandmother finally convinced me to fall.”

Feliciano glanced up to where he knew their family was circling. They had all come down at some point to encourage him, but he hadn't felt even marginally relieved until Lovino appeared.

“What does it feel like?” Feliciano asked, scuffing his feet into the dirt.

Lovino hummed thoughtfully, closing his eyes. “Terrifying, at first. You keep falling and falling and falling. You feel the wind rush past you, you hear nothing but its howl, and it's so cold too. You're stomach leaps too, like so!” At this, Lovino grabbed Feliciano’s waist, pressing his fingers in and gaining a burst of laughter.

“Stoooop!” Feliciano grabbed his brother’s hands, not quite managing a scowl between the bubbling laughter.

Lovino ruffled Feliciano’s hair quickly and stood, heels at the ledge. “Oh, but when you spread your wings, Feli.” He did just that, the sun glinting off the dark brown and illuminating them golden. “It's indescribable.”

Feliciano watched his brother lean back and fall, hurrying to the ledge himself to see Lovino make an elegant turn as he swooped low then up, letting the currents take him higher until Feliciano lost sight of him within the clouds.

Swallowing, he glanced down, closed his eyes, and allowed himself to fall.

He didn't remember much as the wind rushed by, deafening, and the fog lifted, the ground coming closer and closer until—

He spread his wings, felt the momentum as he swooped up, found the currents and flew up, up , up.

Lovino had been right; it was truly indescribable.


	64. God, I Need a Drink (North Italy)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 19 March 2019  
> Character: North Italy  
> Prompt: Gnostic-Heretic: Since you asked for more reqs how about: something with north Italy (any ship/s you want or none at all), “Oh god, I need a drink” as a prompt (because it sounds so funny to me idk fgdddfd) with uhhhhhhhhhuhuh trans vene because I’m obvious and predictable  
> Rating: Gen  
> Word count: 522  
> Note: For the Italy Birthday Requests

 

The function seemed never ending. It was some sort of semi-international European get together where lots of politicians discussed whether particular kinds of people deserved the same rights as others.

Generally, they made Veneziano wonder why anyone had thought humanity had been a good idea.

The worst was that someone had decided to make it an alcohol-free event because the last time champagne had been served, France had challenged England to a duel to which England had somehow reorganized a poor excuse of the sixth coalition. Traumatized, the politicians had made an executive decision.

All it meant was that Veneziano had to stand through mindless chatter sober and not try to stab anyone with a salad fork at the sheer mention of gender or sexuality.

Thousands of years and you'd hope people would learn to accept not everyone was a cis heterosexual (preferably) man.

He ducked out of the umpteenth conversation where a politician tried to get his opinion on this and that superficial matter and ended up with Hungary, Switzerland and Lithuania.

“You okay?” Hungary asked softly, placing a hand on his arm. She, of course, understood Veneziano’s annoyance to the same degree. Lithuania too gave him an equally tired smile.

“I'm fine.” Veneziano glanced past his shoulder, quickly found his brother’s searching stare and signed that he really was. Romano signed him something obscene and scathing about the man he was being talked at by in return. Veneziano smiled, turning back to his company. “Really, I am. But God, do I need a drink.”

Of all people at this party Veneziano had expected to smuggle a flask inside, it hadn't been Switzerland. He pressed the metal container in Veneziano’s hands as Hungary snickered. But Veneziano generally wasn't someone to look a gift horse in the mouth and took a sip of probably the strongest vodka he had ever had the pleasure of having.

Veneziano swirled the contents of the flask thoughtfully, catching England staring at a wall with quite possibly the blankest expression known to mankind. “You know,” he said softly, in what Hungary recognized as his up to no good tone of voice, “England sure looks like he could use some, ah, spirit?”

Switzerland decided that he had to find Liechtenstein right that instant, marching through the crowd.

Lithuania seemed to weigh his options, then shrugged and said, “Honestly, I don't think we even have to resort to that.”

Hungary grinned. “I just saw France sneak something with East Germany. I'm sure there's not much convincing needed for either.”

So, Hungary ducked away to find them, Lithuania turned toward England, and Veneziano made sure to address Germany with their back turned to the ensuing chaos until it had devolved to a point of no return.

Later, when all the politicians had fled the building, the Nations settled into normalcy again and relieved themselves of any restrictions imposed by their presence. Veneziano had gotten himself out of his binder after a pointed look from Romano (who always seemed to know whenever Veneziano wore it for too long) and had settled against Germany, leaning against their shoulder in content.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Asdfghkgsj this just became vene and selected others being a 100% done with politics. Plus an indulgence in gender headcanons ayo because it's a solid truth


	65. Mr. Plant (Prumano)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 20 March 2019  
> Pairing: Prussia/South Italy  
> Prompt: Anon: Feli planning a surprise birthday party for him and his bro and lovi and gil meet there for the first time while drunk out of their minds  
> Rating: T  
> Word count: 578  
> Note: For the Italy Birthday Requests

 

When Feliciano had planned a surprise birthday party, which was maybe a little selfish on his part but felt he was justified in organizing for his recently dumped twin, he hadn't expected the, well, surprise of accidentally giving Lovino quite possibly the best gift he'd ever receive (though it still fell a little short of that one time three years later when Gilbert gifted him the original album of his favourite band from the eighties).

Lovino had been sulking for the better part of the evening, eating probably too much cake though no one dared to intervene, especially because Lovino had almost stabbed _Zio_ Maurice with a fork when he had stepped between him and the cake. Probably the only thing that has outpaced the cake had been the alcohol and now Lovino seemed to stand at a permanent thirty degree angle.

_Nonna_ had actually intervened there, changing his wine to grape juice, though Lovino hardly seemed to notice by that point.

Currently, Lovino was telling his life’s story to the fern stood in the corner. He lamented about his (“stupid, asshole, can't believe he dumped _me_ , I should've dumped _him_ , cheating son of a bitch—”) ex and felt overall much lighter, finding the fern a great listener and compassionate friend.

The fern said, “Dude, that's so not cool. You deserve much better.”

Lovino agreed, though it took him a moment to remember that plants did not actually speak. He turned his head, which felt like his brain was rolling around in it unattached, and met dark brown eyes, one of which wasn't quite focused on Lovino.

“Um,” Lovino said because what was one to say after being caught talking to a plant. Somewhere, his mind told him that keeping up the pretence would hurt his dignity much less than acknowledging the stranger, so he said, “I was talking to my buddy here.”

The man squinted. “That's a plant.”

“That's Mr. Plant to you.” Lovino might be drunk, but he wasn't letting anyone talk down his new friend.

The man laughed, tried to lean more casually against the wall, but slid further sideways instead. Lovino must be really drunk because he thought it was slightly endearing. You know, in a stumbling elephant kind of way.

“Oh, I do apologize, sir.” The man had the decency to address it to the fern. His eyes flicked back to Lovino, then continued talking to Mr. Plant. “I hope you can forgive me for stealing Mr. …”

“Vargas.”

“For stealing Mr. Vargas from you. We have important business to attend to,” the man finished smoothly.

“Important business?” Lovino asked.

The man smiled. It was crooked too. “Yeah. You”—he jabbed a finger against Lovino’s chest, overbalanced and was caught by Lovino who still had a wall to support himself against—“and me are going to get to know each other. Super important business, you see?”

Lovino snorted and managed to manoeuvre the man to the point they both slid to the floor, fern forgotten. “Sure. You can call me Lovino then.”

“Gilbert.” He grinned and leaned against Lovino’s shoulder. “Geez, what’s the chance of having the same name as the birthday boy, or, well, one of them.”

“Very slim. I think I'm the same person.”

Gilbert squinted at him now. “No!”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck. Congratulations then.”

“Where's my gift, huh?”

Gilbert leaned over and kissed his cheek. “There. Plus, you get to meet the Most Awesome Person on the Planet.”

Lovino could only laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the drunk theme continues. These men are a disaster.


	66. Cat Island (Gremano)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 20 March 2019  
> Pairing: Greece/South Italy  
> Prompt: Anon: How about some romantic Greece/Romano, kinda upbeat and sweet?  
> Rating: Gen  
> Word count: 488  
> Note: For the Italy Birthday Requests

 

Lovino hadn’t quite known what to expect when he had stepped off the small motorboat a couple of months ago. He had replied to the advertisement with scepticism and a general sense of whatever. He had nothing else to do with his life, might as well look after cats on a lone island in the Aegean Sea for a while. Even if it had been a hoax, Lovino wouldn’t have cared much by that point. He needed a change of pace, whether good or bad.

Luckily (Lovino would honestly call it strangely), it hadn’t been fake. He and three others had been received by a sweet old couple who had explained the ins-and-outs of their daily lives and work.

Frankly, it was a lot more work than one would think of when hearing of a cat paradise. The cats had to be fed, groomed, sometimes cleaned, petted and played with. The island itself had to be cleaned, from cat droppings to hairballs to whatever else cats produced in waste. Then, there was farming, general maintenance and anything left over. One of the girls left a week later while Lovino continued to work in the sun.

It was a month later when Lovino met Herakles.

The grandson had been on the mainland to arrange supplies and now returned on a large sailboat. Lovino had been told to help him unload and waited on the docks until Herakles had docked the boat.

It had been a strangely quiet affair, moving boxes and unpacking. Afterwards, Herakles dusted off his hands and offered one in greeting as well as a trip up onto the old roof of one of the barns.

From then on, life, which had before been simply living day by day, became much more interesting, with Herakles showing him, actually showing him, all the places the small island has to offer.

Lovino found him on the roof one sweltering afternoon, surrounded by cats, though that was hardy anything strange there.

“So this is where you've been lazing around, hm?” Lovino said as he sat next to him.

Herakles opened an eye to regard Lovino solemnly. “Sometimes, that's what you need.”

Lovino scoffed as he brushed a hand through his sweaty hair. He had been working on the farm that day. “There's always stuff to do here.”

“That's true. But everyone deserves days off.” Herakles pushed himself up. “Come to Athens with me next week.”

“What?”

“I already talked to my grandparents. They agree.” Herakles reached forward and brushed Lovino’s bangs from his forehead, lingering his fingers against Lovino’s jaw. “Have a holiday with me.”

Lovino sighed. “Do I have a choice?”

“Everyone always has.”

Lovino shook his head. “I'm not starting this conversation again.” He tilted his head back to the sky, even as Herakles took his hand and held it as he lied back down. “Sure, I’ll come with you.”

Herakles smiled and squeezed his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon stumped me for a while here. Upbeat and sweet is just about as vague as it gets for me. Then I remembered seeing this advertisement (joke?) come along where there was an island in the Aegean filled with cats and they needed people to help look after them. It can’t get any more perfect than that, does it?


	67. Dance (Gremano)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 20 March 2019  
> Pairing: Greece/South Italy  
> Prompt: Anon: Romantic Greece/Romano with this prompt from the domestic prompts post? •getting slightly too drunk in the middle of the afternoon and slow dancing to dumb cheesy old music and kissing in a way that’s more laughter than actual kissing, mouths clumsy and hands gripping tight and sunlight slanting over them as they move lazily together   
> Rating: Gen  
> Word count: 248  
> Note: For the Italy Birthday Requests

They probably shouldn’t have opened a new red for lunch on this particularly sweltering afternoon. Not that it mattered much anymore now with Herakles nosing through Lovino’s old record collection until he found some old Sinatra, carefully put it on like Lovino had shown him before, and placed his hands on Lovino’s hips as something much faster than their shuffling filled the living room.

Lovino wrapped his arms around Herakles’ shoulders, humming along with Sinatra, smiling as Herakles leaned down to kiss the noise from his lips.

“You really can’t dance,” Lovino murmured when Herakles twirled him so tremendously off-beat that Lovino would think his boyfriend was still stuck on the previous song.

Herakles gripped Lovino’s hands a little tighter when he was ousted as the lead, though Lovino, with as much wine as he had had, wasn’t that well-coordinated either. “Can you?” Herakles teased, smiling when Lovino forced him into the passes of a waltz. That, at least, kind of worked for the both of them, even if it fit the music rather poorly.

“Oh, hush you.” Lovino kissed him, then laughed when Herakles dipped him, unable to stop smiling when Herakles kissed him.

It’s when they almost trip over the coffee table that they decide they should both stop trying to pretend they knew how to dance. Moving closer, noses together, they simply shuffled around in the warmth of the sun and didn’t stop even when the record ended and fuzz filled the air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last one, of all the requests as well as the drunk theme. It's an italian mood hmm?


End file.
